


History

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanfiction, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cam and John have history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelus2hot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelus2hot/gifts).



> Written as a Chocolate Box festival treat for angelus2hot, who likes Cam and John.

 

They don't get together so much these days, with John in another galaxy and Cam busy with SG1, but they're still friends, and sometimes they hook up.

These days it's easy, no drama, and to be honest John likes the beer and sports chat as much as the sex, although it's good to take the pressure off with a buddy who knows what it's like to have the best job in two galaxies, which is also, too often, the job from hell.

John casts his eyes across at Cam, sprawled beside him on the couch, beer in hand, intent on the game on the wide-screen TV dominating Cam's living room. He thinks back to when they met at the Academy. People assume Cam must have been a few years ahead of John, but no, they were classmates. It's just that Cam was the golden boy and John fucked up. No surprise there.

***

They don't get on, when they first meet. Cam's kind of a farm boy, and from a military family. From a real family. John's got his cool slacker thing going, hiding his smarts and his needs, pushing the rules and driving his COs crazy.

The fact they both like cock is a very well-kept secret. If their classmates knew - and that thought brings John out in a cold sweat because he's not that much of a fuck-up and he's going to fly every goddamn bird there is, well, every military bird - John knows they'd blame him for corrupting poor innocent Cam. Yeah, right.

It's unresolved sexual tension of course, and the taunting, competitive stand-off they've got going. There's a bar fight after a training exercise in which Cam was a complete dick, their friends dragging them off each other before the cops are called but not before they've roughed each other up some. Later, Cam hauls him into a deserted bathroom stall, jams John's forearm into his bruised mouth, whispers fiercely, "Don't you fucking make a sound," then slides to his knees and blows John. So yeah, not such a teacher's pet, after all. They're both fighter pilots for Christ's sake, so they've got shit for brains and are high on adrenaline all the fucking time, kind of by definition.

They still fight sometimes after that, but they fuck too. In back rooms and motels, hiding their tracks oh so carefully because, all posing aside, they're smart and ambitious, and in love with being Air Force. John too, not that he'd admit it. And it's a turn on, having this giant career-busting secret between them. It adds spice.

Cam takes John home with him one Christmas when John's at odds with his father - even more at odds, that is. It's a shock to John, the warmth and easiness, how they welcome him in. Seeing how sweet Cam is with his mom and sisters, with his nieces and nephews. John watches and turns on the charm, but inside he's aching. He takes Cam outside that night, takes him down by the creek at the bottom of the yard, out of range of the house. He makes Cam fuck him up against a tree, hard, so it burns. After, Cam holds him close.

"You okay?"

John's panting. He's wrung out. "Yeah. Little sore."

"Not your ass, jerkoff."

John's silent a while. "Makes me feel weird."

Cam sighs. "They can be kind of overwhelming, I guess. 'm sorry if you feel left out. I'll try an--"

"It's not that. It's . . ." Cam knows him well enough to wait. "Real. They're real." John takes a breath. "I don't . . . I can't . . ."

"Dumbass," Cam says, and pulls John in for a kiss. "Sure you can."

John's not so sure.

He takes Cam back to his father's place one time when they both have leave, Christ knows why. Maybe to show Cam, since he can't say it. Maybe as a fuck you to his dad.

Patrick's superficially charming, but after dinner and a few drinks, he gets the knives out once he's decided Cam's just an Air Force nobody with no connections, no rich family, no political clout.

"Well, this is very pleasant. Nice to meet one of Johnny's little playmates." Patrick's got a whisky flush going, and John's stomach clenches. His father takes another drink. "John will have his adolescent rebellion, I suppose. Playing toy soldiers, such nonsense. One day he'll grow up and stop wasting time with model airplanes. Maybe I'll even have a job for him if he doesn't leave it too late."

"Dad . . ." John says helplessly. He feels sick. "I'm not . . ."

"You were such a bright boy," Patrick continues, ignoring him. "You could be in Washington with the movers and shakers doing the company some good, but you never listened, always put yourself first. You broke your mother's heart."

John shuts his eyes. Not this shit again. She drank herself to death rather than live with Patrick, but she wouldn't leave him, for all John's pleading. He couldn't save her. Had to get out and leave her behind. Dave was a lost cause by then, following in Patrick's footsteps.

He feels a hand on his arm, as Cam hauls him upright. "We'll say goodnight now, sir. You know us military types. Early to bed and early to rise."

Cam propels John toward the billiard room door.

"You broke my heart, too, Johnny," Patrick calls after them, slurring his words a little.

Cam stops, turns back. "My momma raised me to be polite to my elders, Mr Sheppard, but I doubt that very much. Need to have a heart for it to break, and I'm seeing no sign of that. John's worth ten of you."

Upstairs, he throws half unpacked gear back into their duffels, cursing under his breath, while John sits on the bed, numb.

"We're not staying here one more goddamn minute," Cam says. He takes the rental's keys. "I'm driving."

Later, in a cheap motel room, he fucks John long and slow, drawing it out until John's moaning, tears running down his face. He holds John after he comes, stroking his hair.

"You dumb fuck, why'd you put yourself through that?"

John can't reply. He doesn't really know.

Cam sighs. "Don't go back there, y'hear? Not ever. Not 'til he's dead."

"Wasn't plannin' to," John mumbles into Cam's shoulder. There's a pause. "Your momma be pissed with you, for talkin' back to my dad?"

Cam laughs shortly. "My momma would've punched him in the mouth."

He holds John close until they fall asleep.

***

Now, John leans over and gives Cam a kiss, a sweet, brief press of lips to his cheek.

Cam's mouth turns up. "What was that for?"

"Old times' sake. Just wanted to say thanks."

"I can think of a few other ways," Cam says, grinning.

John raises an eyebrow and slides to his knees, pushing in between Cam's thighs.

Cam spreads his legs. "Now that's what I call gratitude."

"Fucker," John says affectionately, and bends to his task.

 


End file.
